Illumination's Ruminations Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Illumination's Ruminations

Rating: 3.5


Eye humble poet ruminate on Chronos and extrapolate
on quirks coincidence or fate invents to challenge counterfeit
preconceptions, toxic fumes, life rhymes with time until Death looms.
Time's second thoughts themselves consume themselves, upon themselves presume,
set plans o mice and men at naught, time lines taught, frustration fraught
as lender of the last resort whose lease on peace cannot be bought.
Time dominoes in sequency unseen by self-fufficiency,
translating into energy cusp crossroads few feel, fewer key
into to tune to roundabout synaptic, leaping in and out
neuronal pathways that without a doubt most misconceptions flout.

Wit started writ with couplets quaint that simple poets often paint
to speed ideas, draw sinner, saint, but back to drawing-board. Complaint
is respun, spins more complicated thought processes duly weighted,
some bright and airy fabricated from home-truths long anticipated
to see the light of day when called on catalyzing what seemed stalled,
or double walled those half appalled by speculations scarce recalled.

Ideas fan out in rioutous dance whose chants advance as Chance decants
causal cusps sans backward glance defying deterministic stance.
Effective consequences Cause engenders through apparent flaws -
loopholse left in pseudo laws - leave food for thought pursued or pause.
Life's fractal harmony may be perceived expanding constantly
yet most are purblind, fail to see holistic authenticity,
while what seems static, lacking steam, prepares fresh channels for life's dream
to drive horse, cart, through what most deem stable season's reasoned gleam
essential to keep even keel while spin surfing karmic wheel
through stages pre-defined that steal no thunder from the common weal,
that time band, tide's hand, deal, conceal until fate's too late to repeal.

Simplicity in outward form may sometimes mask a perfect storm
that cause, effect conspire to warm when selfdelusions misinform
as much the writer as th reader - both speaker, seeker, - led lead leader,
guiding life's ride till time-wise weeder uproots tradition's strongest cedar.

Mind, stimulated, needs to feed a train of thought outside the tracks
of easy answers' whites and blacks whose monochromatic vision lacks
the wherewithal discernment backs when in betweet line links it tracks,
then spirals out on fractal limbs as sperm, inseminating, swims
towards true goal without which dim prospects of penatrating rim's
resistance, shaking out a leg in headlong rush towards the egg
that home to hive alive should beg his flag in meioitic keg.

Life's questions in its questions lies as much as answers it supplies,
confuting those who think they're wise behind dogmatic force which flies
in smithereens when ripe and rotten, their raison d'etre is forgotten
because of logic ill-begotten, assumptions strong as candy cotton.

True vibrancy must supervise, stay pregnant with its own surprise,
cut preconceptions down to size. No yard-scale ever quantifies
or censors those who fantasize. Conformity disqualifies
most open options. Life must rise to meet new challenge or it dies.
Yet some say Death is but disguise relinquishing all former ties
from which 'spore-radical' it grows renewed with energy that flows
from ground around, above, below, same answers seeking high and low,
forever in a different guise, forever noting how time flies,
here showing signs of compromise, there, fighting tooth and nail, defies
perceived time-traps against which rise emotions that 'self' justifies -
too 'primitive' to recognize evidence of its own demise.

I, humble poet, recognize the fact that one who versifies
through old equations may not rise to prose rose crystal clear - here eyes
observe far more than meet supplies of batons, cone arrays to size
confusing schools refusing school mistinterpreting tight rules,
to flux still subject, led by fools presuming vested int'rest tools
may subjugate the greater fool content to follow fallow rules.
Verse rules are worthy in as much as keeping change in constant touch
with elasticity of thought, veracity that won't be bought,
and ears tuned into the import of experience dearly bought.

Although these lines meander through thoughts' byways adding little new
to sum of sums, some take their cue from will to distill precious dew -
implicit questions overdue for whose horizons curlicue
into a mental cul-de-sac, who can't look forwards, won't look back,
who, superficial, float, and stack the odds against survival, lack
the wish or the ability to challeng sot stability,
through blatant imbecility prefer invisibility
to second sight that would prepare for future gambits though 'a hair
divides the desert from the sown' till climate change to dune unknown
and shifting, tune uplifting grown from fertile interchange no stone
unturned leaves in the search for bone the mind may worry, never thrown
away until the mind has sown a coracle to surf alone
currents mind's wind may have blown to lead towards a speed track shown
to feed felicity unkown to those who chose veils, nails ingrown.
Poem in draft form to be expanded

(20 April 2011)

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success